Thaw
by Once Upon a Whim
Summary: Maybe she's warming up in more ways than one... Post-most of 4.02. No spoilers for anything after that.


First, I want to thank everyone who left such lovely feedback for 'Avoidance Tactics'; it was a nice welcome to the world of OUAT tales.

Next, just to clarify, when I mentioned on my other story that I didn't think I could do justice to Hook's character, I actually had meant linguistically, not emotionally. I find it difficult to be satisfied with my attempts to replicate his unique brand of generic-British-with-a-dash-of-medieval-Enchanted-Forest. I'm still working on it...

But, I'll have to continue to do my best, as getting in his head is still easier for me at the moment that getting in Emma's, seeing as I can't wrap my mind around her logic of keeping him at arms length. Here's hoping that the end of this episode was a precursor to more relationship-py closeness for the two of them.

Also, I assume that episode will induce a frenzy of fic-writing; any similarities of this story to any others is purely coincidence. I haven't read any others since before the episode aired.

Finally, I have no idea where they fit everyone in that loft. Whatever. Assume what I wrote is how it is.

In the mean time...

_**Thaw**_

Killian woke with a start, blinking at dim, unfamiliar surroundings as thick, heavy fabric was being placed over his shoulders. He pulled his head up from Emma's lap, where their hands still lay intertwined and unexpectedly met the gaze of Snow White. Cradling the quietly fussing infant Prince with one arm, she deftly maneuvered another quilt over him as he sat at Emma's feet.

"Oh, that's quite unnecessary, your majesty," he said softly, sheepishly, unaccustomed to both being mothered himself and being under the watchful eye of Emma's mother.

"It's the least I can do," Snow shrugged, whispering as she transferred Neal from her shoulder to her lap as she pulled up another chair. She was quiet for a moment, her pensive gaze weighing on Killian until she spoke again. "Thank you, Hook, for helping David get to Emma tonight."

He knew how serious the situation has been and how sincere Mary Margaret was in offering her thanks, but he couldn't quite force himself to be quite so grounded, even in the face of what had happened. He played it off coyly, as he usually tried to. One eyebrow raised in the direction of where David was sleeping, he inquired, "I take it your charming husband has filled you in on the details of this evening's adventure?"

"He did," Snow responded solemnly, rocking Neal as the baby let out a soft gurgle. "Thank you for caring so much about my little girl."

The mention of his feelings for Emma immediately tore down Killian's normal sarcastic pirate defenses. He felt a warmth spreading to his cheeks, grateful that the dim light was probably obscuring his slight embarrassment. He took a moment to clear his throat, then turned to face Mary Margaret. "I say to you the same as I told your husband," he said insistently, "she is far more than a mere conquest to me."

Mary Margaret regarded him with a soft smile, but offered no further words.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, both allowing themselves to be nearly hypnotized by the slow, rhythmic breathing coming from where Emma still sat sleeping, well bundled up.

"Has she woken up at all?" Snow finally asked, nudging Killian's shoulder softly.

"Not that I've noticed, no," he replied, his gaze never leaving Emma's peaceful face. "Though I didn't intend to doze myself," he chuckled softly. With a quick glance at Snow and a shrug, he added, "I suppose nearly freezing to death _is_ rather tiring."

Snow grinned weakly and nodded as she continued to rock one baby while keeping a watchful eye on her older baby.

After a few more moments of amicable silence, she stood, informing Hook softly, "I think Neal is finally asleep again. I should get him back to his crib."

Killian looked up, with no indication that he planned to leave Emma's side. "Good night to you and the wee lad then," he said, nodding at the pair.

Mary Margaret began to make her way towards the crib before turning back suddenly. "Hook..." she started stiltedly, "...Elsa took Henry's spot on the couch, and he's in a sleeping bag so that Emma would still have her own bed." She tilted her chin up towards the stairs. "It might be good for her to be out of that chair. It might be more comfortable for both of you..." she added nonchalantly. "You could take the space heater up too."

Killian nearly choked on his own breath and eyed Snow questioningly, only to be met with a smile and a nod before she turned again towards the crib with Neal. "Aye, uh," he stuttered after her retreating form, "I'll see that she gets to her quarters."

Still a bit taken aback by Mary Margaret's seeming endorsement of him staying with Emma, Killian stayed put for a while, choosing to simply take comfort in Emma's steady breathing and her no-longer blue fingers wrapped around his.

A shuddering sob overtook him with no warning.

He had never been so terrified in his life. Storms at sea, Liam dying, fierce battles... Even Milah's death. Nothing had compared to just hours earlier. With Liam, he'd been afraid, but had found purpose in getting the water to save him. And once back on the ship, things had progressed so quickly that there was no room for fear, just despondence and anger. The same with Milah. Everything had happened so quickly with the Crocodile, from Milah, to his hand, to the hook. And then it had been over.

But hours? Knowing for hours that so much of what they were doing was futile as far as saving Emma? Knowing that with each passing minute she grew colder and closer to death and that there was no way he could get to her? No way to perform a dashing rescue? He'd never felt so desperate in his three hundred years. The relief he'd felt when she'd stumbled from the ice into his arms was second to nothing he'd ever felt before. Carrying her in his arms, feeling her fingers lace through his... Wonderful.

But still he felt a nagging suspicion that it was only because she, too, had been scared. Heightened emotions leading to more vulnerability that she was used to. He feared that in the morning light, once she was healthy again, those small advances would be lost. Because that was Emma. His Emma. Her stubbornness be damned, even if the night's events had not changed her, he was irrevocably changed and possibly even more deeply aware of his devotion to her.

Patience and parents and ice and whatever else might lie ahead be damned, nothing would keep him from Emma's side.

Especially given that, unless he had dreamed it, he now had the support of her mother in staying by her through the night.

He glanced around, noting what Mary Margaret had. Emma may have been sleeping well enough, but it couldn't possibly be comfortable for her to spend the entire night folded up in a chair when her bed lay empty just upstairs.

Standing up and letting the blanket from Mary Margaret shrug off his shoulders, Killian, for the second time that night, swept Emma effortlessly into his arms. Taking care to neither jostle her nor make noise amongst the other sleeping inhabitants of the loft, he crept up the stairs slowly towards her room. Once there, he eased her down atop the covers, her cocoon of blankets seemingly doing enough to keep her warm. Once satisfied that she would stay asleep, he stole downstairs once more to grab the space heater and the extra blanket from the floor. Entering Emma's room again, he plugged in the space heater, aiming it towards the bed and draped the last blanket over her.

Satisfied that she was comfortable, he took the small chair from the writing desk across the room and dragged it to the side of the bed where he'd placed her head. He pulled it as close as he could to her, sitting down and taking her hand in his once again.

Emma stirred ever so slightly at the touch of his hand, and her eyes fluttered open momentarily. "Killian?" she murmured sleepily.

Killian smiled. Gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, he leaned forward and laid a soft kiss on her forehead. "Sleep, my Swan."

He then sat back down, laying his head on the mattress next to their clasped hands, sleep overtaking him.

The next thing he was aware of was a tentative hand running fingers through his hair. He blinked his eyes open at the touch, squinting in the bright morning light. It was the best sight he could think to wake up to.

Emma, pink-cheeked and far more lively-appearing, gave a shy smile. "Hey," she said softly.

Killian lifted his head, his own smile taking over his face. "Swan," he breathed, almost in relief.

Emma's smile broadened in return.

Giving her hand a squeeze, Killian ventured a question, serious, but tinged with playfulness, lest he appear too intense in the bright light of morning. "Feeling better, Swan, I wager? You certainly look far less like death than you did last night."

"Downright toasty," Emma giggled, burrowing further into her nest of blankets.

"Well," Hook nodded, keeping the mood light, "hopefully we all stay that way. Elsa is still just downstairs, but it appears the lass had been able to keep her powers in check thus far, though we still need to find her sist-"

He was cut off, Emma's voice suddenly rather concerned. "Killian. Are you okay?" She propped herself up on one elbow, still holding tightly to him with her other hand as she gazed at him insistently.

Killian opened his mouth briefly, intending fully to act good-natured about the whole thing, but something told him that even if he tried, she'd still _know_. And the fact that she would know him like that made the prospect of what had almost happened the night before all the more frightening. He tightened his grip on her hand, suddenly barely able to choke the words out. "Dammit Swan, you nearly scared the bloody life out of me last night," he managed to force out.

"It scared me too..." he heard her admit quietly. Tears shone unshed in her eyes when he turned his head to face her.

"I know you need patience, Emma," he started hesitantly, "but I was terrified that it was over before we even got star-"

He was cut off once again, but this time not with words. More quickly than he had thought possible given her weakened state and the weight of the blankets, Emma had pulled herself to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning over to capture his lips in a soft kiss. When she pulled away a bit too soon for his liking, he could see the damp trace of a tear on one of her warm cheeks. She eyed him quickly with a sniffle, her gaze then darting around nervously. "We're started, okay," she declared in an intense whisper. "I don't know what that means exactly," she continued with a tearful half-giggle, "and I'm still going to be me and neurotic, but we're something. Okay?" she asked, finally meeting his gaze again.

Pulling himself from the chair and Emma from the bed, Killian nodded with a grin. "Aye, Swan," he said softly, but intensely, before capturing her lips in another short kiss.

Emma smirked in his arms as he pulled away. "I guess our third date can be breakfast at my parents' with an ice queen?"

They both laughed, holding hands as they headed for the stairs and toward the kitchen.


End file.
